her long winded journey home

Monday, December 12, 2016 Comments Off

act I (the disappearance):
she disappeared before winter. the sun was no longer shining brightly, but her skin was still glowing
in tan, in amber, in sweet bloom. a testament to her tropical ancestor.
no longer here, we sought her presence, trying to look for the tropical beauty that was
her soul, her marred and marked soul.
stations after stations we looked after her, questioning everyone and even our own sanity,
was she really there? did we produce shared fantasy of a soul wrapped up in silky tresses and glowing skin?
we were greeted by weeks of collecting stories from eyewitnesses that saw a woman with an honest smile and exotic kindness

act II (the odyssey):
the days went by, slowly. as if the universe was not supporting us in our feat. the longer the day gets
the longer she was missing. seconds stretched on longer than necessary.
we shared the tales of loving her and how it came to be when we fell for her; these were the ways
we conjured her. these were the ways she was alive without her being present.
to the north, the eyewitnesses say, to the north.
how much farther to the north do we need to be until the sky was brightened by her personality again
how much farther until all we got of her is no longer the longing
how much farther until her
the farther we go, it seems, the harder to catch her

act III (the investigation):
it was winter solstice when we caught a glimpse of her. the holidays season. everything was grey,
befitting to the unhappiness that we felt after getting by without her.
we wanted to greet her. our sun, in the north.
oh such woe, we wallowed. the closest we were with her, the farthest we feel. how could she do this,
going farther away from us, farther away from her home, farther away from
the ones that had been nurturing her.
there, suddenly someone said. pointing at a secluded cafe. we could see her holding a cup of coffee
and our hearts in her nimble hands.
what was she doing in this perpetual frost? didn't she know that her heart beat in the same way
the leaves sing in the forest and the ocean greet the beach in the summer?
why would she escape from her precursor? from the lives that were passed on to her through genetics? was there a better home than her past? could she assemble better life than the one that had been presented by her ancestor?

act IV (the answer):
the questions disappeared altogether when we saw her properly:
thriving,
blossoming,
gleaming
in a nest she called home, in a situation she called comfort, in a scenery she called familiarity
in a life she called her own
no one should have denied her any of this

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